My Soul To Keep
by Azaz the Unabridged
Summary: [Keys To The Kingdom] A Noon x Dusk one-shot exploring how very wrong things were before Dusk decided to help the Will escape... Heavy-petting slash.


If you're uncomfortable with mild slash, leave, or scroll down to the bottom and tell me what a horrible person I am. I don't actually have my copy of _Mister Monday_ on me, only _Grim Tuesday_, which uses precious few descriptions of people besides their clothes or their stature (correct me if hair color, etc. is wrong, and I'll update with changes… or I'll update once I get book one back). I can't remember whether Dawn, Noon, and Dusk are ever actually described as siblings… but even if I'm imagining it, I like the take.

Timeline: Pre-_Mister Monday_, which means that Noon is the one who went after Arthur in the library and Dusk is the one who talked to him while he was falling. Savvy? No _Grim Tuesday_ spoilers in here, just little details about the House.

Rated: PG-13 for boy/boy heavy petting (… just run-of-the-mill shounen-ai) and some language on Noon's part. No, I'm not insinuating Monday/Dawn. *pause* Alright, I didn't _mean_ for that to happen, but maybe it's why she was fine with Arthur taking the Lower House. So now it's Noon/Dusk and implied Monday/Noon.

***

The Lower House was always a little more relaxed when Monday in the Secondary Realms was through.  True, the Ink Fillers had no less work and the Record Keepers kept on scratching and the elevators sped on just as hurriedly as before, but there was always a sort of quiet, the calm after the storm, or the satisfaction of a job well done.  Monday was over, and there were six whole days left to wind down.

This particular Tuesday, Mister Monday had dragged Dawn off to make some sort of inspection.  With the Day's attention off with the workings of the elevator system, Dusk was sleeping.  Admittedly, Denizens of the House had no need to sleep, but how _long_ had it been since anyone but Monday had gotten a good long rest in the Lower House?  Still, Dusk had only been dozing for half an hour by the House's set time when the doors to the Antechamber flew open, brass handles hitting the wooden door with an alarming slam that sent Dusk scrambling to sit up.

He'd been expecting Monday, come back in a furious rage over some little thing, but no, there was Noon, his usually calm countenance twisted with anger, eyes flashing dangerously, and something about him made Dusk just a bit anxious, just uneasy enough to draw up against the edge of the day bed, the wall cold at his back. "Brother?" It came out as more of a question than a greeting, and did nothing to reassure Dusk or assuage Noon.

"She's up to something," he snarled, stopping in front of Dusk so that his younger brother was looking up through dark lashes.

"Who?" he asked blearily.

"Dawn! Who else?" Noon struck him hard across the shoulder, hard enough that Dusk cried out with a startled mixture of surprise and pain, though both knew that the mark would vanish before it ever colored, and that the ache and hurt were already disappearing. For a moment, Dusk thought of telling Noon off, or of striking back, but he noticed Noon's hand at sword-hilt, the blade radiating architectural flame even through the scabbard. Noon was second only to Monday himself in the house, and Dusk had no intention of re-growing an arm or a leg if Noon took out his anger on his brother. Instead, Dusk sighed lightly and took his brother's hands in his own, drawing them away from the sword with as much subtlety as he could manage. "What has she done, then?"

Noon wrenched his hands away angrily for a series of heated gestures, twisting at Dusk's wrists in the process. "She's trying to insinuate herself with Monday, the whore!

"Calm yourself," said his brother placatingly, pleadingly. "What could she possibly be doing— ai!" Noon had his long, spidery fingers fixed firmly in Dusk's hair, forcing him to look up, a dull, faint ache that a Denizen's body could not completely ignore.

"So naïve," Noon hissed, whispering in his brother's ear. "A million things…"

"Let go," said Dusk, voice quavering.

Noon laughed softly, throatily, and relaxed his grip without releasing entirely, so that the fingers rested lazily among the dark, eider-soft strands. "Poor boy," he murmured. "None of that would ever occur to you, would it? And that's why you stand behind Monday, and I stand at his side…" Gracefully, in one fluid motion, Noon slid onto the day bed behind his brother, a feral half-smile on his face. Dusk stiffened at the touch, Noon's free hand wrapping around his waist, clutching him tight. "Don't worry, little brother, I'll look after you."

"Let go," he repeated, pushing away, but Noon tightened his grip.

"No." His hand dipped uncomfortably lower, every soft, sibilant sound brushing his brother's ear with a certain fevered intensity. "My Dusk, my innocent little Dusk… I suppose that's the way the Architect made you, though. The youngest. No need to worry about the business of the day, just the ministrations of the night…"

Dusk gave a small little cry and tried again to pull away, but Noon grabbed firmly at his brother's collar, half choking Dusk in the process. Slowly, sinuously, Noon pulled at Dusk's necktie, drawing the wisp of silk away between his teeth and letting it flutter to the floor. In one, fluid, unexpected motion, Noon had his brother pinned on the bed, hair streaming in wispy disarray, eyes wide. "Stop." He was begging this time, truly begging, trying to free his hands from Noon's grip as the elder moved down Dusk's chest, unbuttoning and kissing and licking and—

"Why should I?" he crooned, nipping at Dusk's earlobe and biting down his neck. 

_Because it hurts_, Dusk tried to say, but the hurt was hopelessly intertwined with the beginnings of a burning sort of pleasure, and the words never made it out of his mouth, anyways, because Noon was kissing him hungrily, and so forcefully that Dusk gave up whatever resistance he'd mustered before and lay there, quiet and still. His neck tickled, he noticed, so many little details clear as shattered glass before him. Stray wisps of hair were in his eyes; there were little beads on the day bed's cushion that pressed dully into the small of his back; there was a bittersweet taste in his mouth. 

"Blood," he whispered when Noon pulled away, staring at the golden stain around his brother's mouth. Noon smiled his cold smile and put a finger to Dusk's neck, and Dusk realized that the skin had broken and the tingling had been his body healing over as quickly as it could. There'd never be a mark on him, no traces left.

"I know," said Noon, licking his lips, wild and feral. 

Time ran differently in the House than it did in the Secondary Realms, and there and then time went very, very slowly.

***

Noon was gone when Dusk woke up. He shivered where he lay, clutching at a pillow like he had when he was a child in the beginning of days, when the Architect played with her children on days when the suns of all the worlds were young and bright and warm. Closing his eyes, he tried to think back to _then_, to the _good_ days when the House was fresh-built and the beings of the Secondary Realms were opening their eyes for the first time.  He was surprised to find himself crying, then, remembering the past that would never come back.

Thy will be done… 

But no, the Will was broken, and the treachery of the Trustees had corrupted the rest of the House, creeping slowly into hearts and minds and festering there. If only… he could wish for _if only_'s until the stars fell, or until the rightful heir was found.

Or he could make those _if only_'s come true. Monday was the first day of the week, the first step towards reclaiming the House. And if only, if only…

He sighed into the pillow and, for a long time, he remembered.

***

1) A "day bed" is a fainting couch, which is more or less a period piece… but actually using "fainting couch" makes Dusk sound so feminine… oh, hell, I did make him sound like a pansy, didn't I? 2) Swords of architectural flame are mentioned in the second book. 3) _Grim Tuesday_ calls Tuesday's Dawn, Noon, and Dusk "the Architect's great work," (not in the sense that they are _the_ ultimate work, but a great work). 4) Yes, I have seen the Kamui-and-Fuma-and-ribbon picture. Mmm. 5) Saturday's Dusk has gold blood.

For those of you who came straight down here to yell at me, yes, I slashed a children's series! Flame me, please, tell me what an awful person I am, but toss me some constructive criticism in the process, or I'll ignore what you said and write Dusk/Arthur (theirloveissosubtextual).


End file.
